Sobbing at Starbucks

I'm applying to jobs again. Which always makes me feel like an enormous failure. I was lazy in college and didn't apply to any worthwhile internships, waitressing and goofing off instead. Any internship that could lead to experience and later work require me to be earning college credit or to have graduated in the past year, which is no longer true.

I have no journalism experience, few skills, and I don't interview well. Any job that seems interesting to me feels unattainable. Just reading job requirements and applying to things makes me sob and sink into a sad space in my head that makes me want to binge and stop thinking about this awful awful job searching process. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

So here I am. Crying and feeling absolutely worthless.

Trying desperately not to binge right now

In that last post I think I was bragging about how I felt fewer carb cravings. OMG not today. I'm craving everything. All I want is popcorn and arepas and fried rice and bread and ice cream and sugar. The last 30 minutes or so I've been looking at before and after pictures to try and motivate myself.

Update on the carb situation-
Thursday: 21.6g
Friday: 35.8g (there was a bit of wine...)
Saturday (5:30pm): 20.5g

So not really that horrible. I'm okay this those numbers, they're under 50kg, so that's a good thing. Also, congrats to me for going out late last night and not coming home and binging!! I had wine before I left the house and then one vodka soda (high calories, but no carbs! I had about 2oz). Scale responded just a little bit. I lost 1kg, bringing me down to 66kg. My goal was to be 65kg by Sunday (tomorrow) but I don't think that's in the cards.

New goal: 64kg by March 12th.

Side note: measuring in kilograms has been a good change for me. There is so much emotional weight attached to pounds for me, seeing numbers like 68 and 64 are way less stressful than seeing 150 or 141, even though they mean the same thing. Not sure what this means, but it's an interesting observation.

Going out again tonight. I'm making it part of my plan to build in alcohol and going out because I really enjoy going out and it's good for me mentally. So I'm just trying to plan around the alcohol better now. Trying to make vodka soda my new drink, even though I don't particularly love it.

LCHF

Sunday: 74g
Monday: 115g
Tuesday: 44g
Wednesday: 42g
Thursday (as of 2pm): 23g

I'm on a new low-carb high-fat diet. My goal is to stay under 50g of carbs everyday. Ideally much lower, but I've been eating a lot of vegetables which have fiber in them, so a lot of those carbs are from that. Lots of eggs, chicken, broccoli, mushrooms, cauliflower, lettuce, ground beef, cheese. A little bit of almonds and peanut butter, bacon, cream. The high number on Monday was from a sugary latte my friend bought me and I felt too guilty to turn down (I find it highly embarrassing to admit that I'm on any kind of diet) and from a cup of black beans before I realized how high carb they are, I learned a lot that day and have started logging my meals before I eat them.

My hope was that I would have lost at least a little bit by now, almost five days in, but still nothing. I'm still 67kg-ish, though I was hoping to be 65 by this Saturday, March 4th. There's still time, but still, it's discouraging. I know, I know, be patient. But I'm having trouble keeping my motivation without seeing any results on the scale.

I will say, however, that my skin looks a bit clearer and that I've stopped craving carbs the way I did on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday (and every day before that, for that matter). I moved all the carbs into a hidden low drawer and I don't even think about them anymore.

I'll update again once I've lost a little bit of weight.

Dating

I have a "boyfriend". I broke up with him last summer, and then I broke up with him again a few weeks after that. Then we got back together. Then we planned to move in together and I got cold feet and called the whole thing off. Then he came to see me anyway and we've been out to dinner 4 times in the past 6 days. I don't really want to be with him, I want to see other people. But also he's very good to me and it's hard for me to imagine anyone wanting to be with me at my current weight.

I keep thinking to myself "I'll do that when I'm thin." But time is moving fast, and I'm not sure how much longer I can wait.

Joined a gym a few days ago. I ran on the treadmill yesterday and the day before that. Last night I swam laps in the pool. I ate vegetables for breakfast, but I'm having pizza for lunch, so idk. Still 145lbs.

New Year, New Life

1. I moved
On the 17th I flew to Medellin from Philadelphia. I arrived early in the morning to my new city, took a taxi to my temporary apartment and collapsed in tears on the bed. Before the true sobbing set in I called my boyfriend and told him how scared I was and how I really didn't want to be here alone. He of course reminded me that this had all been my idea, that he had offered to come with me to set things up, and I had refused, wanting instead to start this whole journey on my own. How stupid I felt in that moment, and for the next few lonely, miserable days.

2. New job
When I bought the plane tickets and decided I was moving to Medellin I had no job or prospects. I kind of just planned on talking to people and trying to find something. In the meantime, I figured, I'd take some Spanish classes and continue with my online coding classes. From my six months waitressing I had around six months of living expenses saved, so I could get my for a while, longer if I was frugal. But lady luck smiled down upon me in the form of a facebook post to an expat page. I now have a job writing drug information pages for a pharmaceutical coupon company. Still haven't actually written any drug pages, but I have done some research and emailing back and forth with my boss. Progress is progress I guess. It pays alright, especially for the living standard here. It'll cover my rent and bills and about half of what I spend on clothes and food and all that other stuff I don't actually need but feel as if I can't live without.

3. Weight loss resolutions
As usual, I have resolved to lose weight this year. In 2015 I lost around 30 lbs, which I gained back in 2016. So I'd really like to get back to that end-of-2015 weight as soon as possible. The main plan of attack is to make a lot more meals at home (should also help in the spending department) and stop eating dinner (which is also part of the culture here, they normally just have a snack or a hot beverage). I got Alton Brown's cookbook for Christmas and a Colombian cookbook (in English) and brought both of them with me. I'm also relying heavily on my weekly healthy eating newsletter from buzzfeed for inspiration. My next step will be to buy a bunch more storage containers to keep leftovers in. Bought a scale today (analog) and it told me I'm still the same weight as when I left the states last week (which I'm disappointed in, I've been walking a lot and eating less than I used to.) 68kg. Boo. My goal is to be somewhere in the 50's by March.

4. Get active
There are a few things I'd like to do in this category. First is that I'd like to get into swimming laps at least once a week, there is a set of large outdoor pools near the soccer stadium that have free admission. The second is going on hikes, which should be a fun way to also do some more photography and explore more places in Antioquia (the state I live in here). Third, I want to get stronger, perhaps get a set of dumbbells for my apartment, or perhaps join a discount gym in the neighborhood (but that's not likely, those are for men mostly and I hate being stared at and cat-called.)

5. Apartment 
Hunting for a new apartment is my current obsession. I've spent about 4 hours each day for the past 3 or more days looking through listings and calling agents and seeing spaces. It's hard for me to organize all the details. Cost, cleanliness, location, number of bedrooms, bathrooms, amount of light, etc. And then there's the headache of buying a bed and a fridge and a washing machine. Oy vey. I don't really like being an adult.

6. Creative accomplishments
I want to have a real blog again (one that I can publish my real name on, one that isn't just a diary online) and really start creating article and doing interviews with people. I'm not sure what my focus will be, but I'm excited about the possibility. I plan on doing some audio interviews and some photography, perhaps a video or two.

how do I keep ending up here?

Back in Pennsylvania again. Got back from Colombia at the end of June and after only a few weeks at home I'm already feeling kind of stir-crazy. I have a job waitressing at a restaurant across the street from my house. I don't have any friends in the area. I feel lost and worthless and stupid.

I weigh 143 again. Almost 15 pounds up from my low last August. Getting lots of motivation from my fitbit and the new pokemon go app to go outside and gain steps, but I need to get my food intake under control. I'm bored and smoking too much pot and lonely so all I want lately is to hide in a dark place and eat sweet things and chips for hours. I know sugar is enemy #1, but I'm so addicted to it, I can't stop. I just love sugar so much.

Today:

coffee with half and half

sweet cream iced coffee from starbucks (currently sitting in starbucks writing this and a few cover letters for internships I probably won't get because I'm not a student. I wasted so much fucking time while I was in school earning money when I should have been earning experience. I'm such a dumbass.)

walked around the park where my sister runs a day camp to find pokeballs and hunt new pokemon. feel like a nerd but I love it.

cried in the kitchen because I feel so trapped and like my life is being wasted while I sit in my house and do nothing and get fat.

I need to find some new resolved for my diet so at least I can lose weight while I'm home with nothing else to do. Get back into exercise videos and become vegan or something.

downward spiral

I thought I was a perfect applicant. They were practically begging people to apply. But I got rejected. The fact that there was a video part of the application makes me think maybe they didn't want me because I'm not pretty.

When am I going to stop doubting myself so much that I prohibit myself from actually accomplishing anything? I'm freaking out about my future and the fact that I have no job and no place to live come June. I don't even know which continent I'd like to live on once this contract is up. But yet I can't bring myself to even apply to any jobs or programs or schools because I feel like absolutely nobody will want to hire me. Or even let me volunteer with their organization. Because I'm uninteresting and dumb and have no skills and I'm not even pretty. 

Went on vacation alone this week. I went to Medellin and the coffee region and a park where they have the tallest palms trees in the world. I was in an absolutely stunning place and I cried everyday, for hours. I just feel so lost and pathetic and lonely.

It's despicable that I let appearance and beauty and weight matter this much to me. I believe that appearance is the thing that matters least about a person. But still I let myself cry and berate myself for hours that I'm not pretty or thin enough. I'm weak and can't stick to my principles. 

getting larger

Last post I wrote that I was doing alright. And that's still true, kinda.

Haven't weighed myself in a while, not since late January when I went with a friend for a free 2-day gym pass and I was at 63kg/138lbs. That number shocked me, cause I thought I was definitely still under 60. But nearly two months of vacation and travel put on some weight. I know I must be even heavier now.

I had a painful realization of it yesterday sitting in a plastic chair in shorts, seeing my pale thighs splayed out and enormous. Then another, even worse one when I was forced to watch a video of myself teaching. I made the mistake of wearing a tanktop and my ham arms were on full display. (ughhhh... just so completely gross. I'm so pink and copious and flabby.)

One day I want to know what it feels like to be super fit and thin and small. I bet it's the most amazing feeling in the world. Not just for the appearance, just for the ease of moving through the world in a smaller, tighter, more compact form. I want that. I need that. I just wish that food and my body shape weren't so inextricably connected.

I'm okay.

I've got a perfect body,
but sometimes I forget.
I've got a perfect body,
cause my eyelashes catch my sweat. 
-Regina Spektor, "Folding Chair"

I think I'm better. I want to be skinny still, but the overwhelming desire is gone. I can take a negative comment without opening a pit of despair inside myself and spiraling out of control. The feeling of fullness doesn't have me running for the bathroom. Eating better and exercising interests me more now as a way to be healthy, not simply to look that way.

Maybe this won't last. Maybe old thoughts will come crashing back into my mind and I'll fall into old ways. But for right now, I'm fine. Right now it's more important to do well in my job, to fall in love, to spend time with friends, to make creative things, to make money, to travel. And thank God for that. It's rather boring and sad to be stuck in that awful circle of self-hate and pity and curiously looking for other people who share my interest in self-destruction. After nearly ten years of that, I think I'm ready to move on and try something new.

I must do better

Just a little discipline. Or a lot. That's really what I need.

Been spending too much money, eating too much rich food, wasting too much time reading novels and watching tv shows, drinking too much alcohol, giving too much time to boys. Never working. Never doing anything for anyone besides myself. No wonder I feel like such absolute crap.

To be the thing you have to do the verb. I went to journalism school and learned there that I have neither the motivation nor the dedication to make it in that field. It's hard work, nerve, and creativity. I am too lazy. So hundreds of thousands of dollars later I have a fancy private school degree and almost no impressive work to show for it, precious few connections, and no job prospects. None of this would matter if I could just get my shit together and create something of my own. In this modern internet world I don't need a job at a paper or a station to publish anything. But I'm too afraid to try, to lazy to work at it.

Now here I am, a volunteer teacher in a foreign country. I'm behind on submissions for my TEFL degree, and it's been gnawing at me like overdue school assignments used to. I did a horrible job teaching this last semester, simply because I failed to properly prepare and do the work necessary. These kids deserve more than what I gave them. I can do better. I will do better.

It's not January yet, but I'm making a few resolutions for the new year now.

1. Make lesson plans, or at least outlines, for every class

2. Create something every week. (interview someone, write an article, draw, knit, audio postcard, etc.)

3. Do nice things for other people

4. Less small talk, ask more interesting questions

5. Do my best to always tell the truth even if it's more comfortable to lie

6. Mindfulness

7. Consider the consequences more

8. Stay in contact with college friends

Friendsgiving

My first Thanksgiving away from my family, it felt strange. All day I felt empty and anxious and just off.

Wednesday night I saw Marlon for the first time in 3 weeks. I was still angry at him for ditching me at the beach during Novembrinas and frustrated with his horrible texting habits. We made plans Tuesday but I went out with Francisco instead. (That night was amazing- Francisco and I bought wine at the grocery store and then went to his new house that his family hasn't moved into yet. We sat on his empty back patio and drank and read poetry in Spanish.) When I finally got to Marlon's house on Wednesday night I was frustrated with him for not coming to pick me up and for being so casual when I was still angry with him.

Of course we made up, and actually ended up having a pretty nice night. We talked a lot (well, as much as we really can. He knows about 5 words in English and my Spanish is pretty terrible. But we get by) and I ended up staying the night at his place. I got home around 9am and started planning for Thanksgiving dinner that night at my friend Mohamed's house.

I walked to the grocery store to buy the ingredients for cookies and a fruit salad but stopped on the way to eat an empanada and mango juice. Lunch was coconut rice and pork chops and guava juice. Then I went to class for a little while just to check in, then went home and made the cookies and some banana bread for my host mother. I tasted just a little bit of the cookie dough.

As soon as I got to Mohamed's house my stomach started to hurt. I was really pumped for delicious thanksgiving food and lots and lots of wine, but my body ruined everything. A sip of wine and I had to put it down. A friend got me a plate of food and the look of it made me want to throw up. I was so nauseous and started to get that taste in my mouth like I was going to be sick any moment. I went to the bathroom and waited a minute for my body to get everything out, but nothing. So I sped up the process and then it was like magic, the entire day's worth of food came up. It's so crazy for me to actually throw up now, purging is such a part of my life that when I throw up for real now it's kind of scary. My body does all the work for me and it's freaky to be out of control.

So now the question is if I have a stomach bug or if it was what I ate. My guess is either the empanada or the raw cookie dough. Drinking gatorade now and praying I can manage to keep it down. I want to go out dancing tonight and I don't want to feel like crap.

Actually trying

Yes, still just under 60 kilos, my weight hasn't budged since early October. Thankful I haven't gained anything but I need a kickstart so I can return to the US for Christmas at least at 3kgs lighter. I feel like I'm right around the weight where my face shifts from round to angled.

Mostly, I have to blame the alcohol. Far too much beer lately. I've been purging more meals which has helped balance things, but I drink a lot. It scares me to admit this, but I need the alcohol to truly relax and feel happy. Sober I always feel too anxious, too self-conscious. But then I get a little lift, a little buzz, and the inhibition slips away and it's as if the night has turned to magic and I can be anyone. Must be careful, this is how the problems always start.

Lots going on in my life right now. A change to my program, newly purchased travel tickets, Christmas preparations, love life drama, graduation ceremonies, thanksgiving dinner, birthday celebrations, last-minute classwork to turn in. My life is full and I'm trying to appreciate that best I can without letting my own nagging insecurities drag me down. I can't let myself ruin this experience with all my negativity.

all-consuming

You know that feeling you get in your gut when you were feeling good and confident, or maybe just neutral, and then you suddenly remember how ugly and fat you are? For me it usually happens when I catch my reflection in a window or a mirror or someone else's sunglasses. I left the house feeling okay but then I see how I look to the rest of the world and my stomach starts to turn. 

It starts with just a single thought. fix your hair. And then another. stand up straighter. And another. wipe all that grease off your nose. And then everything seems to be wrong with me. stop smiling like an idiot. suck your stomach in. don't say anything stupid. The thoughts spiral out of control and I am berating myself. why did you eat all that shit? your thighs are twice the size of hers. your chins are showing. your arms are fat hams. bring make-up to reapply next time. My stomach starts to hurt. you should have lost the weight by now. you're just another ugly fat girl. I can feel myself withdrawing from the people around me. you're not that special. everyone else is prettier than you. at least she has nice clothes. I fight to pretend I'm fine when I just want to cry and beg someone to talk me back to a happy place. you're ruining your own night with negative thoughts. you're socially awkward. there's something wrong with you. don't be selfish. The hissing in my head is enough to make me cry.

I've been living with this horrible voice in my head for as long as I remember. If I could only lose more weight maybe it would be a little quieter. I'd still be ugly and awkward (and prone to self-hate) but at least there would be less validity to fatness that I feel.

Somewhere around 130 pounds right now, not totally sure. I need to get back into a restricting mindset, find some discipline, and make sure my accurate scale at home reads under 125 when I get back to the US for christmas. I want to know what it feels like to be thin and strong and know that I really am beautiful. There's no way I'm meant to be fat for my whole life. 

La Fiesta Novembrinas

All week long my adopted city Cartagena, Colombia has been celebrating its independence day. Officially the independence day is November 11, but the festivities start in late October and continue on until the Miss Colombia beauty pageant the following Monday. It's too dangerous to take anything valuable out onto the street so I couldn't take pictures but here are some I found on Google to share with you all:

Boys covered in oil to represent the newly freed slaves. They roam around the city and if you don't pay them a few hundred pesos (20 or 30 cents in USD) they rub the oil on you. Kids also dress as clowns and block the roads demanding a toll to pass. Basically the children take over the neighborhoods for the week. 

Children playing with espuma. Cans of soapy foam are sold on the street and used to playfully spray all over friends and strangers. They also use water balloons and water guns, paint, eggs, flour, and cornstarch.

I had the absolute best time going to the parade on Thursday. I went with a friend and her boyfriend and his hooligan friends. There was so much energy at the big party downtown, and if I were a more cautious person I might have been a little afraid. Firecrackers going off in the street, loud music, dancing, so much alcohol, and of course all the things we were throwing at each other. By the end of the night I was covered in blue paint and cornstarch and my eyes stung from the espuma. I was drunk and tired and dirty but so incredibly happy to be there.

Eskimo Brothers

The moto I took today was reckless and fast. I flirted with the driver to get him to give me a lower price, and knew I could get my way by the look on his face. When we peeled off from the curb I immediately knew he was not a cautious driver. We weaved through buses and were always at the head of the pack of other motorcycles when a red light turned green. All the way I dared myself not to hold on and listened to my pulse race in my ears, loving the rush of wind across my face.

A meeting with my boss at a favorite coffee shop in the historic part of town. She helped me plan the next few classes before the end of the school year on December 4th. We had to have the meeting because I had a meltdown on Friday. My co-teacher asked me to randomly teach a lesson and make up an activity on the spot. I froze and panicked. I let the 45 minutes left in class tick by, the students just gossiping and texting on their phones while I sat paralyzed, mentally chastising myself for my lack of creativity, charisma, and mastery of the Spanish language.

I left the school before my next class, cutting it completely. I walked down the stairs and through the halls, through groups of curious students, trying to keep the tears in my eyes from spilling down my face. At home I had to walk past the two elderly women I live with to get to the safety of my room. They both felt the need to remedy my sadness with evangelical prayer and my room was doused in holy water while they prayed loudly to El Señor and Jesus. I managed to move my laptop just before the chair it was sitting on got water all over it, then closed my door as soon as they had left my room even though they were still asking the Lord to rid the evil spirits from my life. I know this was rude, and I should take all the help I can get, but at that moment I was so worked up and hating having to interact in another language so I selfishly shut myself away, stripped my clothes off, and cried in the shower.

That afternoon I left to go to the house of a guy I've been sleeping with for the last three weeks. And if you've been reading previous posts you'll notice this is the second Colombian that I've been sleeping with. I'm still in contact with and sort of dating the first one (F) who is philosophical and compliments me often but is full of himself and bad in bed. The second one (M) smokes a lot of pot, has a car and his own business, compliments me often, and is good in bed but speaks absolutely no English and is very bad at texting me back.

I arrived at M's house to try and fuck away my sadness, and it worked for a little while. That post-orgasm glow just wipes out any feelings besides contentedness and exhaustion. And now here's a little more TMI: He asked very sincerely if he could take a video of me giving him head and I agreed. We watched it afterwards and I couldn't believe how beautiful I looked doing it. Slutty, yes, but also glamorous somehow. My face looks amazing from that angle. He also took a video of us having sex, me on top, and I felt less good about my body. I've lost weight but my body is still soft and round, big bulges of fat on my stomach and legs and arms.

If I wanted to lose more weight, which I do, it really wouldn't be that hard. I just need to cut down on my alcohol consumption (currently I'm drinking a lot, mostly as an escape from the rest of my life which I find all at once perplexing, terrifying, and boring), stop eating so many saltine crackers, and take the opportunities when I eat meals outside my house to eat salads. I think the rest of my diet could pretty much stay the same and I would be losing weight again, especially if I threw in even just a little light exercise.

Being with M is really nice, despite the language barrier. He's sweet and even willing to forgive a fairly large and comical situation that we find ourselves in now. The night I met him we were dancing in a bar and then I went home with him afterwards. The next day we spent the day at the beach together and he looked at some pictures on my phone. A photo of me and F came up and he said he recognized the guy in the picture, "who is this?" he asked me, "I think I know him." I told him his name and M said that, yes, he did know him and he thought he was a bad guy. Later I told M the truth, that I was seeing another guy but didn't mention the name. M was fine with it "I don't care about that as long as you still want to see me again."

Then Friday evening while we were lying in bed, M asked about my novio. I said he wasn't my boyfriend, but yeah there was something going on. "Where does he live?" M asked, and I answered. "What's his name?" M asked, and I refused to answer. "Is it F?" M asked, and I said yes while I covered my face and turned away, coloring with embarrassment. "Do you believe in destiny?" he asked me, and I said I didn't know. I guess I do now, or at least in the idea that my life is sometimes like a romantic comedy. Turns out M and F have been in a similar situation before. A girlfriend of F's (who lived with him for 2 years) broke up with him and then immediately started dating M. It's a small city so they see each other out in bars and around town, enemies in the way Eskimo brothers can be. Now me, the cheating little gringa.

My love life has become a source of escape and entertainment, but when these men become unavailable to me I feel cold and alone and empty. I need friends or alcohol or a movie to be watching, because when it's just me and my thoughts I start to go to dark places. I'm sad. Sitting alone in coffee shops used to be enjoyable, but now it's a type of torture. I sit, trying to entertain myself with a book or browsing on my cell phone, anxiously waiting for my phone to buzz with a message from someone, anyone, so that I won't have to be alone anymore.

I need something my own and productive to give me purpose again. A creative project to drive me and help me find some sense of accomplishment and control over my life. I need to be able to fix this myself, I can't let myself fall apart again.

Éxito

My weight hasn't budged from 127 in three weeks. But I don't mind, it's a nice low weight for me compared to my elephant months this past winter. On Friday I felt sexy pulling on new tight-fitting jeans, a strappy tank top and wedges. My hair was long and sleek, my make-up fresh. The cat calls were louder and more frequent than usual when I walked from my house to the Castellana Plaza.

Friday was a friend's birthday and we made a plan within our group to go salsa dancing at a local place. I wanted to do something to make her feel special so far from home, so I left my house early to go buy a sparkler candle (volcan) and donuts instead of cake (cakes here in Colombia have never impressed me, always dry and tasteless). 

On the way to the store I walked across the street rather than using the pedestrian overpass because there was a group of teenagers hanging out up there and I didn't want to walk past them. So I darted across traffic instead and saw a very fat cat dead on the median. Its skinny little black and white legs were sticking straight up into the air from its fat black and white body. "Tsst Tsst Hola prima, mi vida ven aca" a guy called to me as I walked. For once I turned to acknowledge a guy calling to me on the street."Que pasó?" I asked him, pointing to the cat. "Se caió. Se morió," He told me, as if I were an idiot for asking. I said goodnight and walked away.

In Éxito (Colombian equivalent of Target) I walked straight from the entrance to the baked goods section where I examined every single box of donuts and compared them for most desirable flavors and variety. I had left my house far too early and had more than an hour to kill before I met my friends. So I walked up and down the aisles with my box of donuts, stopping to pick out a new color of nail polish. I wandered through the aisles of refrigerators and ovens and televisions and thought of the day last week when I'd done the same thing with Francisco. When I got bored I paid for the donuts and the nail polish and an impulse purchase of a smirnoff mixed drink in a can.

Then, like any number of strange americans in superstores, I sat down at a table with a box full of donuts to drink alcohol and paint my nails raspberry pink. For 30 minutes I sat contently, drinking and carefully applying three thin coats of polish. I waited for them to dry, stood up when it was time to meet my friends and went off to find a moto taxi. 

Dream a little dream of me

On my mornings off I still like to wake up reasonably early so I can feel like the day was still completely mine. Mornings off, like the mornings I work, I set a few alarms to allow myself to lazily put off getting up for a few more minutes. beep beep beep. I slide my finger across the surface of my cell phone and roll over in my bed.

Before the first alarm I was dreaming of people moving into my house. I often have that dream here, that the people back home miss me so much they're willing to move to south america to come be with me. Or that they just happen to be here too, and I welcome them into my adopted home so that we can be here together, a team of familiar faces up against the challenges of newness together.

Before the second alarm I dreamt I was organizing the closet of a very wealthy man. First we went to the store and bought a new armoire with lights running across the top and organizing shelves. Then we came home and he advised me while I stacked his slacks according to their shade of beige.

Before the third alarm the most wonderful thing happened. In the dream I was at a cocktail party where everyone was older than me, and then my mother walked in. We both cried we were so happy to see each other again. She remarked on how old I was, that I was an adult now. We hugged and I noticed how thin her shoulders were, it stuck in my mind that we were exactly the same height; with our arms wrapped around each other we pressed perfectly together cheek to cheek. The two of us sat on a sofa near a large picture window and drank a fancy foreign wine with a acquaintance of hers. She said she didn't have much time but promised to be back. I protested that I had so much to ask her, I needed so much from her. 

The third alarm rang and I got out of bed, my chest bursting with feeling. It always feels like some sort of miracle when she returns to me this way. I cry to think of all the time she missed, more than fourteen years now. But at this point in my life, even a sweet little dream of her is such a gift. I love you, Mom. I miss you. 

Medellín

A week's vacation in Medellín has spoiled me for life in Cartagena. There the weather is perfect, there is public transportation, clean parks, and so much to do. Here is a hellishly hot sprawl of houses and shopping centers, not a park or even a patch of grass to be found. It's normally difficult to come back to work from vacation, but this is harder than usual.

My body was not used to the amount of walking I did in Medellín. I did a hike in the mountains which made my calves sore for days afterwards. Then I walked miles each day after around parks and public squares and danced until my legs were shaking with exhaustion. A few months ago this would have been nothing, but after a few sedentary months it was a challenge.

Food-wise, it was an odd week. I ate only two actual meals in the 6 days I was there. The rest of my food was street food eaten from napkins. At least one empanada a day, maybe a pastelita. The majority of my calories came from the alcohol, though. Because I don't really eat after lunch time lately, the alcohol I consumed after 10pm hit an empty stomach and I got drunk quickly. 4 beers and I was dizzying-ly drunk. Medellín is famous for its white powder and the party scene there is amazing. I didn't do anything illicit, no worries. In the morning I'd try to cure my hangover with big cups of chocolate milk.

Between all the walking and my junkfood/alcohol consumption I have no idea if I gained or lost weight over my week of vacation. The day I left I weighed 127, a new low weight for me. I'm too afraid to look and see that I've gained.

Decide and let go

All through September I counted down to the break in the first week of October while simultaneously dreading it because I had no plans and no one to make plans with. I stressed a lot about it, having a little poor-me pity party over feeling alone and anchor-less. While telling my Dad about it on the phone today I started to cry. Today is monday, the first official day of the break, and I am home doing the same old stuff as always, totally wasting my vacation time.

So at noon I got off my hammock and opened my computer and started googling. Booked a flight to Medellin and texted a friend I know is close to there. I had so much adrenaline from my impulsive decision I started to shake (I shake in response to a lot of emotions lately) so much that I had to calm myself down alternating sets of squats and push-ups. My flight leaves tomorrow evening.

While I was planning all this (sort of, all I have is the flight still) the thought crossed my mind to stay to see Francisco. But then I reminded myself how stupid it would be to waste my vacation time on some boy I know is going to turn out being bad news. But still, after I bought the plane tickets I messaged him to say I was leaving. He said he would miss me, and did I have time to say goodbye today? I said yes.

So another sunset watched from las murallas, another twilight stroll along the narrow streets, another roll-around in motel sheets. But he confirmed to me all the bad news I was anticipating. "I lied to you about something," he said. My heart dropped. Turns out he isn't 25 after all, but turned 30 on June 3rd this year. 3 years older and 8 years older are two very different things. Then later he told me more truths, about the girl he's been seeing on and off for 3 years. "I don't love her, I never promised to love her forever," he said, "but I have fidelity to her. Or this is not the word... loyalty to her. As a person." She is coming to visit from her home in Australia in February and staying for two months.

I need to stop seeing him now. Just be strong and push his presence out of my life. But it's so hard to give up something that makes me so almost-happy. My days are so empty without love. To be alone is to be nothing. I am always yearning for that someone who I can pour myself into and who will pour himself into me. But I can never be first place in Francisco's heart, and he is not good enough for me. Charming and poetic and handsome and funny, but narcissistic and unmotivated and macho and a liar. If I let him stay, let the comfort of someone seduce me, I'm giving up the opportunity to have something real, the deep and loving relationship I want more than anything else.

Te extraño, hermosa

"Eres hermoso," I told him. He was putting on his clothes and I was sitting with my legs hanging off the motel room bed. I had just put my clothes on while he was in the bathroom, and he walked out naked. Silently, I watched him put on underwear, then pants, and then look around on the floor for his shirt. Perfect smooth skin that ripples over muscle, his body is beautiful. "Eres heromoso," I told him as he pulled the shirt over his head. "Ah, but hermoso is a very strong word here," he said, stopping to smile at me. He's a beautiful man, but what really makes me melt is his smile. "Yo sé," I said, "You really are beautiful." When he leaned down to kiss me again I couldn't help smiling, too.

He's been away for a little while, only a week, but with new lovers the time always seems to drag between meetings. "Te extraño, hermosa" he texted me yesterday. "Pero hermosa es una palabra fuerza aquí" I texted him back, trying to echo his response to me when I used that word. "Sí" he responded "pero tu lo eres."

Latin men have that way with words. They lavish their women with compliments and declarations of love, they whisper poems into her ears. Amor, cielo, cariño, linda, terms of affection are used in the most casual way. Sometimes it's hard to know what to brush off and what is really meant in a heartfelt way. Does he like me? Am I being played? I ask myself these questions every time I'm with him. But then he'll do something nice like introduce me to his friends as "mi chica" or ask when I want to come meet his mother, and I start to think he really does want me.

I'm still learning Spanish, and I speak it badly. So my conversations can be a bit wonky. But here are some of the things I've learned:

eres hermoso/hermosa- you are beautiful

yo sé- I know

te extraño- I miss you

pero hermosa es una palabra fuerza aquí- but beautiful is a strong word here

sí, pero tu lo eres- yes, but you are